Quirk Manifestation

The time I had feared, the time I had dreaded with every fiber of my being has finally arrived. The twins my sweet, innocent boys have manifested their quirks.

I knew it was inevitable, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it. Both Toya and Arashi have inherited Enji's fire quirk, but in different ways.

Toya's quirk is called "Cremation," and Enji has said that it will grow to be more powerful than his own flames by the time Toya is old enough to start his hero career.

His flames are a deep, haunting blue, hotter and more intense than anything I've ever seen. Just watching him summon them sends a chill down my spine, knowing the potential for destruction they hold.

Arashi, on the other hand, has a quirk called "Flame Body." His flames aren't as intense as Toya's, but his resistance to heat is far greater.

Enji explained that Arashi's body can withstand extreme temperatures, his skin impervious to the fire that would burn others. The maximum temperature of his flames might only match Enji's normal flame temperature, but it's more than enough to make him a formidable hero in the future.

It's strange, almost ironic, how their quirks have manifested. It's as if they each received what the other needed most.

Toya, with his immense firepower, lacks the resistance that would allow him to control it without harm. Arashi, with his unmatched resilience, doesn't have the sheer destructive force that Toya possesses.

Together, they are two halves of a whole, complementing each other in a way that is both beautiful and tragic. But I can see the disappointment in Enji's eyes.

I know he had hoped for something more something that combined the best of both of us into one perfect creation. Instead, he got two flawed, imperfect children who, in his eyes, will never truly measure up to his expectations.

And now that their quirks have emerged, Enji's demeanour has changed. He's no longer just a father watching over his sons he's a mentor, a trainer, a taskmaster.

I can see the wheels turning in his mind as he begins to formulate their training regimens. He's already started to prepare them, pushing them harder than ever before. I can see the intensity in his eyes, the burning desire to mold them into the heroes he wants them to be.

I still don't fully understand the intricacies of their quirks, but Enji does. He's studied them, analyzed them, and he's already begun to tailor their training to their specific abilities.

Touya's quirk, with its raw power and potential, is something Enji sees as a future mantle-bearer. He's begun to groom Touya for that role, whispering promises of greatness and responsibility in his ear.

I can see the effect it has on Touya the way his eyes light up with a mixture of pride and pressure. He's only a child, yet he's already being burdened with the weight of a legacy he didn't ask for.

Arashi, on the other hand, is treated differently. Enji's expectations for him are not as high. He sees Arashi as a potential top-tier hero, maybe in the top ten or top twenty rankings, but not as the one who will carry on his legacy.

Enji's goal for Arashi is more pragmatic, more grounded in reality. He'll train him, push him, but not with the same fervour that he directs towards Touya.

It's a subtle difference, but I can see it in the way Enji interacts with them the way his eyes linger on Touya just a little longer, the way his tone softens ever so slightly when he speaks to Arashi.

It breaks my heart to see the beginnings of a divide between them, a divide that I fear will only grow as they get older.

More than a year has passed since Fuyumi's birth, and as the twins grow stronger, Enji has started to visit me again, his intentions clear.

He wants more children perhaps because he's not entirely satisfied with Touya and Arashi, or perhaps because he's driven by an insatiable desire to create the perfect heir.

Whatever his reasons, it's breaking my heart. Each time he comes to me with that unspoken request, I feel a little more of myself slip away.

I love my children with all my heart, but the thought of bringing another child into this world, into this environment, fills me with dread.

I don't know if I can do it again if I can watch another child grow up under the crushing weight of Enji's expectations.

Enji's visits are not frequent, but they are enough to remind me of the reality I live in. The man I married is not just a husband or a father he's a man driven by ambition, by a need to prove himself and his legacy to the world.

He sees our children as the vessels through which he will achieve that legacy, and I fear that there is little room left in his heart for anything else. I can see the toll it's taking on him, the way he's slowly becoming more distant, more focused on his goals than on the family he's building.

I try to find solace in my children, in the moments of joy and laughter that still exist in our home. Touya and Arashi are growing, learning, and developing in ways that both amaze and terrify me.

They are still so young, so full of life, but I can see the shadows of the future creeping in, the expectations that will only grow heavier with time.

Fuyumi remains my beacon of hope. She's too young to understand what's happening around her, too innocent to be touched by the complexities of our family's dynamics.

Her laughter is a balm to my soul, a reminder that there is still beauty in this world, even in the midst of all the chaos. I hold her close, whispering promising future that I hope will be kinder to her than it is to her brothers.

But even as I try to protect her, I know that the day will come when she, too, will be drawn into Enji's world.

I can already see the way he looks at her, the way he assesses her potential. It's only a matter of time before she becomes part of his plans, part of his relentless pursuit of perfection.

And so, I find myself caught in a web of emotions love, fear, hope, despair. I want to believe that we can find a way through this, that we can be a family in more than just name. But with each passing day, that hope grows dimmer. The reality of our situation is becoming harder to ignore, and I fear that the worst is yet to come.